


tumblr fics

by anthonydarling



Series: tumblr fics [1]
Category: Marvel 616, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nonsense, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sickfic, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team as Family, author also loves dramatic shit, author is tired gay and wants nice things for these dumbasses, but they're not always dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23771821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthonydarling/pseuds/anthonydarling
Summary: Assorted fics from anthonydarling on tumblr dot com.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: tumblr fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718395
Kudos: 30





	1. savior | tony

Tony Stark saved them all, in the end. It was fitting that this protector, who had created himself amidst pain and fire and desperation so long ago, was their saving grace now. 

When he'd been found on that lonely spaceship with Nebula by his side, he'd been half dead and delirious with starvation and lack of oxygen. But he'd been alive. His eyes had been wild with grief and rage and a thousand terrible things that the Avengers had never known he was capable of expressing, never mind while unable to stand or choke out a few words. Even then, he was fighting. Something had happened when he'd disappeared, and now all that was left of him was terrifying intelligence and a heartless anger that shook everyone who had known him before to their core.

Because Tony? Tony was kind. He was good. He had the means and the mind to become deadlier than anyone had ever seen. He could've made Thanos seem like a spoiled toddler. Despite that, despite who he could have become, he became great. He became damn near unstoppable, created an arc reactor from a bucket of scraps and a new element and a thousand ways of improving the world through technology.

His entire purpose as a superhero was to atone for his sins, and by whatever deities there were, he would do so more spectacularly than anyone had ever done before or would ever do. 

Steve and Bucky weren't stupid enough to believe they’d truly won the fight in Siberia. Tony could have murdered them both in seconds. If Tony had really, really wanted the Rogue Avengers out of the picture they never would have been seen again. But he didn't do that. He gave them what was basically a warning and they ran, because Tony Stark wasn't someone you fucked with by any means and they knew it. 

But now? 

He'd lost his surrogate son. He'd lost his team. He'd lost the battle that had meant the most to the universe and now there was no room in his heart for kindness, not when the being who had ripped away so much from everyone was still out there with his crimes unpaid for. Tony Stark didn't lose. 

When Tony recovered from his injuries, he went to Steve Rogers. They weren't close to a match without their armor, and not close to the same height, either, but Tony had an air of command that Steve had never been able to recreate. 

“Captain,” he'd said, with a cold, shark-like smile, “I am taking over your abandoned position as the leader of the Avengers.” 

“He can't do that,” Sam said. 

Steve didn't hesitate. He knew his limits now, and he knew Tony's. This was not a battle he needed to win, not after he'd lost the one that had mattered the most. He wouldn't have fought it either way. “We look forward to serving under you.” 

Then Tony was gone. The Rogue Avengers that had known him before were silent as the newer members protested.

So, in the end, it was no surprise that Tony Stark was the one who defeated Thanos. 

The final fight was hard won. It was a terrifying show of strength, strategy, and talent, with explosions rocking the ground and the air, and a thousand enemies per Avenger. Captain Marvel was a brutal lightshow, blinding light and searing heat. Widow and Hawkeye fought in tandem. Scarlet Witch was unrecognizable in a cocoon of red light, Ant-Man was impossibly fast, Rescue and War Machine rained hell upon every alien that came within a thousand yards of them. No holds were barred, and every Avengers’ actions were laced with desperation and fury.

The battle raged for days. They lost Widow, Rescue was knocked out of the air, and the Winter Soldier was incapacitated. Captain America took a hard hit to the head, but he blatantly refused to step down despite Iron Man's orders. Everyone was exhausted. Their objective was to separate Thanos from his army, but the army just kept coming, and Iron Man made a suicidal decision that saved them all. 

He rocketed at the Titan with what would be reckless abandon in anyone aside from Tony. He calculated variables and possibilities in milliseconds and acted accordingly, ruthless in his rage. Thanos wasn't terrified enough.

The fight was so terrible that the army and Avengers stopped as one to watch their commanders. Iron Man was seamlessly graceful, a bolt of pure power against Thanos’ rough actions. He fought with the power, the emotion, the force of the entire devastated universe in his maneuvers. 

Iron Man shot towards Thanos’ head, there was a deafening explosion, then-

Then. 

Iron Man marched out of the ashes with a gleaming golden gauntlet on his hand and nothing but grim purpose in his stance.

He had finally saved more lives than he had taken.


	2. an irishman and a genius walk into a bar... | stevetony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings. everything is cute and nothing hurts

"Hey, Steve?" Tony asked, not bothering to look up from his work, "hand me that pocketknife? This stupid thing's stuck."

Tony's hand hovered in the air, expecting Steve to do what he asked, but instead the man gave an uncertain little noise. "Um, could you get it yourself?"

Tony looked up at him quizzically. Steve was on the other side of the table with his sketchbook in front of him and a pencil in his hand. The knife was laying directly in front of him, and he was staring at the thing like it had said something that wasn't quite appropriate. Tony squinted at him, but a grin stretched across his face.

"I'm supposed to be the one that has issues with handing things over, not you," he teased, leaning forward. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Steve looked up at him, and, was he blushing? Oh, god, he was. His ears and cheeks were turning pink and Tony didn't know why it had been caused by a simple request for a pocketknife but, damn, it was funny.

"Well," Steve mumbled, smiling sheepishly, "I, uh, it's dumb."

"That just makes me want to know even more."

He made a face at Tony, then ran a hand through his hair. He was still blushing. This was the best day of Tony's life.

"I, uh, I'm a first generation irish immigrant, right. My ma was full-blooded irish, born and raised, and back then, y'know, we all had views on what the world was like." Tony rested his chin in his hand, listening patiently. Steve glanced at him every once in a while, but he wasn't quite looking him in the eyes. "And, there's this one thing she always told me, you don't hand sharp stuff to your friends 'cause it could cut off your friendship." The words came out in a rush, and Steve promptly buried his face in his hands.

Tony blinked once. Twice. And burst into roaring laughter. Steve gave a long-suffering sigh.

"So," Tony wheezed, "you're telling me that, that you don't want to hand me the knife because it'll ruin our friendship? I'm-" he broke off, giggling. Steve nodded sadly.

"It's kind of stupid, I know," he mumbled, still grinning.

"No, no," Tony rushed to reassure him, "it's- endearing? Can I say that?" Steve nodded. "Okay, so, recap. You won't give me a knife because it'll- it'll-" and he couldn't do it, he couldn't, because Steve was sitting there looking as embarrassed as a chastised child and it was fucking funny, okay, that the great Captain America was worried about ruining a friendship like this, and-

Oh.

It was kind of sweet. "You don't want to ruin our friendship?" Tony asked.

Steve shook his head quickly. "No, I really don't. That's kinda why I, uh," he waved a hand, "that. Just. I'm still adapting to the idea that people don't have these superstitions."

Tony shrugged and walked across the table to pick up the knife himself. Steve's eyes widened slightly at it, and Tony shot him a smirk, partially to hide the touched sort of happiness that was swelling in his chest.

"I can't lose you, and damn if I'm gonna let some Irish superstition make me."


	3. of soup and supersoldiers | stevetony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no warnings!

“What kind of soup do you want?” Tony asked, looking a little bit like a deer in headlights as he examined their pantry full of assorted soup cans. He rarely ate soup- hell, the last time he remembered having it was three years ago when he'd gotten a concussion so bad that he wasn't able to chew without being in pain. Speaking of pain...

“Not hungry,” the lump on the couch mumbled, its voice nasally. Tony's lips ticked up in amusement. 

“C'mon, Mr. Super-Metabolism, it's either this or a sandwich.”

Steve groaned. It was more for show than it was an actual pained sound. Tony snorted, shaking his head. The press would never believe him if he said that Captain America was a whiny patient. 

“Chicken soup it is,” he said, then got it ready on the stove and wandered back towards Steve. He looked absolutely pitiful, really, bundled up in three blankets and still shaking like a leaf. Tony would've teased him, but he knew how much Steve hated feeling cold, so instead he put his head in his lap and ran his fingers through his hair. Steve gave out a purely orgasmic sound and nuzzled against Tony's hand, practically melting into the couch. 

“Dramatic,” he murmured fondly. 

Steve side-eyed him. “‘m not s'posed to get sick, lemme be.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Sir, yes sir. Sit up so you can eat.” 

“Don’ wanna.” 

“Steve,” he said firmly, looking down at him. “You are eating.” 

He sat up slowly, wincing as he did so. His head must be pounding, Tony thought. Some food would do him good. 

Then Steve laughed hoarsely and turned towards Tony. His hair stuck up wildly from where he'd been burrowing into the pillow, and his face was flushed with fever. His eyes sparkled with mischievous amusement. 

“What?” He grumbled, eyeing him suspiciously. Really, he'd been mothering this idiot for hours, and now he was silently making fun of him or something? 

“This is what I usually have’ta do for you, draggin’ you out of the shop’n all.” His grin widened. “See how it feels?” He poked at Tony's chest. “See?” 

Tony blinked. Then again. Huh. This was exactly what Steve did. His chest warmed with equal amusement and affection, and a bit of vulnerable gratefulness. He hated seeing Steve sick and exhausted like this; he couldn't imagine having to constantly make sure that he was eating and remembering to sleep. 

“I guess you do,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a dry kiss to Steve's too-hot forehead, “and this is my turn to take care of you.”

“You always do.” Steve's smile turned a little shy. Tony rolled his eyes to mask the sudden love he felt for Steve, the kind of love that rested warm in his chest and made him think that Steve was worth everything he'd ever had to go through. 

“So,” he drawled, “since you know what this is like, will you cooperate and eat your damn soup?”


	4. alternate endgame ending | steve & tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in the end notes.

When they're on the battlefield after they've defeated Thanos, mourning their losses, mourning Tony because he could never not make the sacrifice play, Steve freezes.

Because he realizes that Tony's death is bigger than him, bigger than any of the Avengers- Tony spent the last decade fighting for everyone and not giving a damn about himself. He deserves to live, to be happy. Not only that, he has a wife and a daughter and a not-son that's currently sobbing over his still form. And he realizes if he were to use the reality stone...

Then Steve's moving, he's running towards the body of his friend, and he pulls the gauntlet off of his lifeless hand and puts it on his own- 

The other Avengers start screaming "Steve, what are you doing-"

And Steve smiles at them. Tear tracks have made their way through the dirt on his face. "He has a family," 

Steve says, "he has a wife, and a daughter, and a world that he can impact in ways that none of us can. Tony's been fighting this fight harder and for longer than the rest of us, and this is what he gets?" 

He's unusually still, weary, and, god, he's so tired of fighting. He wants to go home, but he hasn't had one in so, so long. He raises the gauntlet, considering it. His voice breaks the next time he speaks. "I can bring him back." 

The others start shouting, moving towards him, they're begging him to think about this, they can't lose anyone else- 

"Tony's got so much to lose, and so many people are going to mourn him," he says, his voice carrying clear and calm over their shouts, "guys, I'm sorry, but what do I have?"

"I don't want to die," he says, "but I was never supposed to live, was I? I wasn't supposed to survive the crash." 

"Steve," someone in the crowd chokes out. He thinks it sounds like Natasha, but that can't be true. She'd died, too. 

"He deserves to live, and I do, too, but he has a place in this world. I don't. I never did." 

He snaps before they can stop him, and the glove shines a blinding red. 

Screams ring out as he falls to his knees, crying out in pain. Tony is sitting up, wide-eyed and gasping, and he doesn't pay the Avengers any mind. He looks at Steve, and Steve smiles at him even as he coughs up blood. It's sad, and apologetic in a way, but it's fierce and wildly glad. He knows he's made the right choice.

"Steve, no," Tony chokes out, jolting forward with a hand extended towards him, "why would you do that?"

Steve sags to the ground. "Someone once told me that, that," he coughs weakly, and the determination in his eyes sharpens even as he seems to look far away, back to a home he lost long ago, "when someone chooses to die for you, you have to allow them the dignity of their choice. This is my choice, it's- Tony, I choose this. This is how this ends." 

"I chose death," Tony rasps out, moving to kneel against him, to hold him up. His voice trembles. "Steve, I chose this too, why didn't you let me?" 

Steve's eyes flick up to meet his. Tony is crying, and the hand he'd used for the gauntlet is spasming. All Steve can see is love. He loves Tony, despite their differences. He knows that Tony is never going to forgive him for this- but he loves Tony, and people that love each other will always hurt each other. Tony's pain is a small price to pay for his happiness. 

"I'm sorry," he says, and he can feel his body slowing, he doesn't have a lot of time left, "it's you or me, and you have a daughter, she's- she's the future." 

He's tired, and warm, and Tony's arms are comforting, "c'mon, futurist," he whispers, "this is your chance. Don't waste it."

And then he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> temporary character death, and, uh, not-so-temporary character death.


	5. "I don't know why I married you." | stevetony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings!

"Steve. Steve. Steve. Steeeeeeeeve."

Steve sighed and rubbed at his eyes. The paperwork in front of him had long since gone from legible words to nothing but black marks on white paper, but it was due tomorrow and he really didn't want to get yelled at by Fury again. He resolutely ignored the sounds of Tony doing some weird shimmy-dance behind him, because he always did something weird when Steve was trying to focus and he glared at the papers.

"Steve, pay attention to me," Tony whined, walking up behind him and putting his hands on Steve's shoulders. His hands were warm and strong like they always were and Steve felt some of his resolve crumble. "I'm so lonely. It's like you took a mistress but the mistress is just mountains of paperwork. I hope it satisfies you in bed." 

And that's it, that's all she wrote, folks, because Steve couldn't stop himself from huffing out a laugh at his husband's ridiculousness. Tony mock-cheered. "He hasn't been turned into a mindless henchman yet!" 

Steve spun his chair around and grinned up at Tony, who was looking down at him with bright eyes. His hair was sticking up wildly like it always did after he went on a stint in the workshop, but it looked like he'd changed out of whatever he'd been wearing because instead of a ratty pair of jeans and an equally worn tank-top, he was wearing one of Steve's sweatshirts (the soft maroon one that they all but fought over) and Captain America boxers. Oh, so that's the game he wanted to play? 

"Y'know, you shouldn't pick favorites like that," he teased. Tony curtsied with them. 

"How can I not? I married you," and even now, a solid year after the wedding, Tony lit up with excitement at the fact. Steve opened his mouth to say something sweet and romantic, but then Tony leapt forwards and slapped the side of Steve's upper thigh. "For that ass!" He crowed, and Steve leant back in his chair and gave a longsuffering groan. 

"I don't know why I married you." 

Tony's resulting laughter reminded him exactly why.


	6. "If you die, I'm going to kill you." | sambucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end.

Sam tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Barnes to pick up his damn phone. This was his fault and by god, he was gonna fix it. Barnes had decided to switch out all of Sam's normal boxers and briefs with lacy, too-delicate lingerie, and he was not going to go on his and Steve's morning run with a thong on.

Barnes picked up on the seventh ring. "Oh my god, this wasn't supposed to happen this morning, shit," was the first thing out of his mouth. Sam made a face.

"What the hell?" He asked. "No, you know what, I don't care. What did you do with my boxers?"

Bucky didn't reply for a long moment, then: "I, uh, you know. I- fuck! Nat, your six!" There was a tinny popping noise, and he sighed. It crackled over the speakers.

Sam glared at a teal thong as he spoke. "What are you-" he paused. Oh, hell no. "Are you on a fucking _mission?"_

"Uh, maybe?"

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This man was going to be the death of him. "You replaced my underwear with lingerie, got sent on a surprise mission, and then answered my call? While you're on said mission?" This was a new low, even for them. Sam was getting increasingly frustrated with him- he understood that Barnes was bad at communicating his feelings, but this was a blinding show of- of what, trust? Affection? What did you call it when your not-friend answered your call in the middle of a gunfight?

"It's a normal op, I just-" the rest of his sentence was drowned out by the sound of rapid gunfire. It stopped and Barnes whooped. "Suck it, Romanoff!"

"Listen, dude," Sam started, "you need to go. If you die because you were talking to me on a mission, I'm gonna kill you, and I'd prefer just killing you here instead." He paused, considering, weighing his chances before deciding to take the leap, then said "I'll just wear this pink shorts thing. It's fine."

Barnes made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a cough, and Sam's lips ticked up. "Good luck out there."

"I, uh, you too."

Sam made sure that Barnes heard his laughter before he hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestive Themes™, talk of lingerie, general silliness.


	7. "I am NOT a bored suburban housewife." | stevetony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings!

Steve smiled faintly as he felt Tony hug him from behind. "Long day?" He asked softly, pulling out the coffee creamer. He'd taken it upon himself to make him his afternoon coffee today- Tony had been working nonstop for two weeks, now, and he'd only come to bed for half of that time. Steve wanted to make things at least a little easier for him.

Tony laughed humorlessly. "Oh, darling, it's only four. Don't wait up for me."

Steve stirred the coffee. "I might, just so I can make sure you actually go to bed." He turned around. Tony gave him a weary smile before burying his face in Steve's chest and wrapping his arms around his torso. Steve draped one arm across Tony's hips and the other around his shoulders, holding him tight.

"Can you take thirty minutes?" Steve asked, although he didn't really expect a yes. It was worth a try, and Tony looked so tired…

Tony mumbled something into Steve's chest and pressed closer to him. He laughed softly. "What?"

"Said, I'd like to get at least some time with you." He huffed. "You're like a housewife. You watch me while I work, make me coffee, and tell me to get some rest."

"Rude." Steve ran a hand through Tony's hair and scratched his nails across his scalp, just how Tony liked it. "I'm an Avenger, you know. And a SHIELD agent."

"Housewife. You've got the, well, the," he made a vague up and down gesture against Steve's back, but before he could ask what he meant, Tony brushed his lips across Steve's pecs. He laughed.

"Tony!"

Tony was shaking with suppressed laughter of his own. "You're like a bored suburban housewife and I'm your nine to five working husband."

"I am not a bored suburban housewife."

Tony hummed. Steve could feel his smile. "You sit around all day, gossiping with Natasha-"

"-running ops with Natasha-"

"-and I come home and you make me coffee and get handsy and I stick my face in your frankly _amazing_ rack-"

"-coffee and hugs-"

"-and you're always there when I need someone to lean on and I love you a lot and you make me happy after I've been working for two weeks straight, seven to midnight instead of nine to five and I get so tired that I can barely even think," he finished, his voice shaking just a little, and then he tightened his arms around Steve and went quiet. Steve's smile turned a little sad.

"Just a few more days, and then I'll get as handsy as you want," he murmured, and Tony laughed weakly.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," he mumbled, and Steve pressed a kiss against his hair.


	8. Gratuiti (Selfless) | Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings really just general dramaticness

Thanos' smile was tinged with insanity as he raised his gauntleted hand in the air. Tony, pushing past the sharp pain in his chest, pushing past the panic that was edging his thoughts, shot his hand forward. The mechanism he'd made to pull out the infinity stones flew out and towards Thanos, latching onto it perfectly, just as he'd planned it. He could all but feel it unlatching and shooting back towards him, and he held his arm out to take it.

He knew what this meant, and he'd made his peace with it long before. He just hoped that his friends and family- god, Pepper and Morgan- would forgive him. 

Peter's scream of "Tony, _no!"_ was drowned out by the battle raging around them. But Tony was hard-pressed to miss the string of webbing that caught the assembling gauntlet and ripped it out from midair, out from its assigned path, away from Tony. 

Tony felt his heart stop. 

The very air seemed to still as the gauntlet and stones arced through the air and landed on Peter's- Peter's- hand. A harsh sound of pain eked out from his gritted teeth and he flinched down, falling onto his knees as raw, deadly energy arced down his arm, up his neck and across his chest. He steadied himself against the ground with his free hand and hung his head. His back rose and fell with too-quick breaths. 

"Peter," Tony choked out. "Peter, what?" 

Peter forced his head up. He was smiling, wide and innocent. He was far too innocent for this line of work, and what happened because of it? 

He threw himself to the wolves, again and again and again, with no regard for himself. 

_What's the good in being a friendly neighborhood Spiderman if there's no neighborhood?_

"I'm," he tried, and his voice was strained, "I know. I know. I'm sorry." 

Tony couldn't seem to make himself speak. 

The battlefield had stilled to watch. Human and alien, good and bad, stood together with baited breath as a teenage boy took on the raw power of the universe. 

All but one. 

"Well," Thanos said, laughing lowly, "what's this about?" 

Tony didn't miss the fear in his eyes. 

Peter's expression darkened, his eyes flashed with a multitude of emotions, and Tony hadn't known that he could look so _hateful._

"We beat you," he gasped, _"we beat you."_ He was trembling, and his eyes were shining. He was afraid, too. "You can't take us down, you-" the gauntlet surged, and his face contorted with pain as his small frame flinched with the force of it. 

But he didn't cry out. 

Tony hadn't ever known how strong this boy was, had he? 

"You're a child," the Titan sneered. "You don't know what you're talking about. You didn't even lose anything, you were one of the dusted!" He stepped forward. Peter shook his head. 

"No. N-no. But I've lost people before, and I can't imagine losing more. You don't know loss. You don't!" He shouted, cutting Thanos off as he opened his mouth to argue. "Losing and really, truly losing are different, they're _different,_ it claws at you from the inside out and takes over your mind and you will never understand how much it hurts, and you took us!" 

The gauntlet surged with him again, but this time it seemed to fuel him, like they were agreeing. Thanos seemed to notice as well- he took a step back. Peter laughed, high and manic. 

"I'm a child. Why are you scared?" He mocked lowly, his fingers coming together, threatening to snap. Tony's blood ran cold at it, at the gleam of madness that was lighting up his eyes. 

"Peter," Tony called out, his voice shaking. "Peter. The stones- they're controlling you. Don't let them." 

His eyes flicked over to Tony, then back to Thanos, and then they fluttered shut. He groaned. 

"Peter," Tony said again, "Peter." 

"No," the boy gritted out. "No. You can't take me again." 

For a brief moment, no one made a sound. Nothing moved. The stones brightened, as if they were alive. Maybe they were. Maybe they always had been. 

"Yes," Peter said to no one. His eyes were still shut tight. "Yes, I understand." 

Tony exhaled. 

And then Peter's eyes flew open and his back arched, he was pulled to his feet by an invisible force, and the stones sang with Peter as he screamed _"we beat you!"_

A blast of explosive, devastating energy burst from the gauntlet and Peter alike. Peter _shrieked,_ audible through the ground-zero boom, and then, anticlimactically, dust began to blow through the air. 

Peter collapsed to the ground. 

The assembled heroes- Avengers, Guardians, Wakandans, and Asgardians were untouched by whatever force Peter had harnessed. They weren't watching the dust, however, just the too-young hero that had done the impossible. 

Tony finally forced himself to move; he stumbled to Peter's side and pressed shaking fingers to his neck. 

His heart was still beating. 

A warbling, frantic cry of relief passed through Tony's lips. "He's alive. He's still alive." 

Everyone was silent with shock, and then the surrounding heroes began to shout the news. It grew into a roaring celebration of relief and joy- they did it. Peter did it. 

He saw Pepper and Rhodey standing together, leaning against one another as they shouted and watched on. A group of Wakandans ran forward and fell to Peter's side, then began to pull out an array of medical supplies and got to work. 

Thanos was the only enemy left. He slumped to the ground, staring at Peter's crumpled form. 

"I don't understand," he said. "He's a child, a _human_ child, how..?" 

It was Tony's turn to smile, now, although it was sharp and brittle. "Doesn't matter what he's made of. He's the goddamn best of us." 

Thanos opened his mouth to speak again, confusion and fear etched across his face, and his body dissolved into dust. 


	9. "Who did this to you?" | steve, tony, & peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings at the end

"Oh, he-hey, Mr. Stark. And Cap. Sorry. Your living room window was the only open one, because, I… I mean, it's the middle of the night, why would any windows be open?" Peter smiled, but it turned out to be more of a pained grimace. "I need- med bay, if that's cool with you guys, I'm just gonna-" he pushed off of the counter and took several unsteady steps, then grabbed onto the kitchen island. Blood smeared from his fingertips. His suit was covered in it.

Steve jolted forwards. "Tony, can you get the med bay set up?" He tilted Peter's head up and checked his eyes briefly. Peter groaned softly and looked away, and Steve pulled back. His jaw was tight. "He's drugged." 

"Not my fault," Peter said, as if they gave a shit or had even considered that it was. "It was… gas. I feel mostly okay, just… dizzy." 

"Do you know who did this?" Steve asked. Peter blinked at him. "Who did this to you?" He tried again. 

"Uh," Peter said, his eyes unfocused. "Don't know. Can't- I can't remember the fight." Tony could feel his heart pounding in his throat. Shit, this was bad.

Steve let out a slow sigh. "Okay." Then, "Tony, I don't know what Peter needs in the med bay." Oh, right. He needed to go. He moved to leave, sort of, but then Peter giggled, high and a little hysterical. 

"Pain meds." His eyes squeezed shut, then he leaned heavily against the counter and he let out a tight, pained noise. Steve steadied him and looked at Tony. He was in Cap mode through-and-through. Tony certainly wasn't in Iron Man mode. 

"Okay." Tony managed to croak out. Then the words all began to spill out. "Yeah, pain meds, can do. And blood, I think you need blood, it's- it's everywhere, how are you still standing, hey, what type of pain are you in?" 

"Yeah," Peter wheezed. "Tony, please, it- I need-" 

His voice wavered, and that jolted him into action. 

"You'll be fine," he heard Steve saying as he left. "Tony's got this." He stepped into the elevator. 

"'Course he does," Peter rasped, and then the doors closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drug mentions, both legal and illegal, blood, peter's in pain, but like. it's okay. or it will be.


	10. hello, pedestrian! | Avengers and OFC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is just pure fluffy nonsense

Adrienne is hungover. She is so, so, _so_ hungover, and she has no one to blame for it but herself. She knew that staying out for half of the night was going to be a bad idea, but Leanne and Tiana had made a very compelling case involving a gay bar and that really cute girl they'd seen there last time, and well. She hadn't woken up at her own apartment and she needed to change for work.

She takes a sip of her coffee. Cute Girl, whose name is actually Charlie, works at a coffee shop and woke Adrienne up with a travel cup of coffee, Advil, and a breakfast burrito, and Adrienne is smitten. And sore, and tired.

She eyes the bus times, another ten minutes, ugh, she should've called an Uber. She sent off a quick I'm alive, thanks for dragging me out last night but also fuck you text to Leanne.

There was a shout in the distance. Adrienne didn't hear it, because this is New York City and no one can hear anything over the sound of constant traffic and also more yelling. But then the shouting got louder, and other voices joined it, and her head hurts, damn it, could the city pause for five minutes?

"Go, go, go!" A man was shouting. He must have some powerful lungs, Adrienne thought idly. He wasn't in sight yet.

"Sir yes sir!" A woman yells, and someone yelps, and someone shouts "MAN DOWN!", followed by "leave me, save yourselves!

What group of fitness freaks is this cheerful at- she checks the time- five in the goddamn morning?

A small, dense group of people skid around the corner a block away, small but steadily getting closer. The sidewalk was on a slope headed downwards so she could see the entire group. Adrienne eyes them. There's, what, eight of them? She's standing in their path, but she's at a bus stop. They can move around her.

The runner in the front was the one shouting. He still is, and actually, a large portion of the group seems to be shouting.

"Dad, Natasha's being mean to me!" a man yelled, and a small woman hip-checked him. He went stumbling off to the side, shouting. Someone in the middle shouts back, "be nice to your brother, Tasha, I know you wanted a sister but we have to make do with what we have!"

"Okay, box of scraps," the man shoots back, and Adrienne frowns. Natasha, box of scraps, painfully athletic people running together in the city. Why did that sound familiar?

"C'mon, Avengers," the Captain goddamn America says, and Adrienne almost drops her coffee. "Let's play nice." A man is sprinting towards him as he speaks. Someone laughs.

"On your LEFT," the man screeches, fucking tearing past him, and Captain America yells something inarticulate and speeds up. They're very close now. Maybe Adrienne should move.

"Iron Man, you're in command!" someone back in the group calls, and Tony fucking Stark wearily jogs to the front.

Falcon wheezes out a good morning as he sprints past Adrienne. Captain America smiles at her. How hungover is she?

"I'm not strong enough for this," Tony Stark groans, head tilting back, "you're all enhanced and young and I, I am, uh," he broke off. Someone laughed at him. He made a face. "Don't laugh at the team leader!" No one listened.

"Ah! Pedestrian!" A big blond man in the middle of the group calls out. Thor? "Hello, pedestrian!"

Adrienne blinks at the group. Tony Stark, Thor, Black Widow, Hawkeye, War Machine? There was a man with curly salt-and-pepper hair beside Thor. Oh, Bruce Banner.

"God, you look how I feel," Tony Stark huffs. "Good morning. I'm sorry you're awake this early."

The entire group chorused good morning as they jogged past. She stared. Falcon shrieked in the distance.

"Hey! Friendly fire! For shame, Captain!" Hawkeye yelled. Black Widow collided with him again, hip-checking him into a wall. He scrambled to keep his balance and ended up falling anyway, leaping towards Black Widow like he was going to take her down with him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him up without stopping, steadying him, laughing, and Bruce Banner leapt through the air with a shout and landed on Thor's back. War Machine was yelling something that sounded like a military cadence but on his own, just to contribute to the noise pollution. Tony Stark may have been shouting with him. It was hard to tell, because if he was, he wasn't getting the words right at all.

The group was a far cry from the stoic, strong group of Avengers that she'd seen on TV. This was better. Even if it was a bit more deafening than she'd ever expected.

Oh, god, Leanne and Tiana were never gonna believe her.


End file.
